


Sartha Advent Calender

by Spooteh (Pawfoot)



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Supernatural
Genre: Advent Calendar, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-01
Updated: 2012-12-23
Packaged: 2017-11-20 00:50:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 6,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/579481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pawfoot/pseuds/Spooteh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mostly fluffy, slightly domestic SuperWho advent calender.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. December 1st- Christmas Tree

**Author's Note:**

> Most of the calender takes place in a slightly domestic AU from the end of season five. Team Free Will+Martha are semi-retired, living in Sioux Falls. Martha consults for UNIT on supernatural issues, Dean works part-time as a mechanic, Sam's finishing his degree online, and Cas volunteers at the local animal shelter.

“We need a Christmas tree,” Castiel says at breakfast on December 1st.

Martha perks up immediately. “I think that’s a great idea! A nice proper tree for our first Christmas in the house.”

Sam and Dean glance at each other; they don’t exactly have the best track record with Christmas. But Castiel seems determined to experience everything humanity has to offer, and Martha’s enthusiasm is hard to ignore.

Of course, they don’t have anything to decorate the tree with either, so Sam and Martha end up picking up lights and ornaments while Cas and Dean get a tree. Because god forbid Dean do anything as unmanly as purchase pretty things when he could be wielding an ax.

Fortunately, Martha had a perfectly normal childhood and knows things about Christmas trees, like how much tinsel you actually need and how long the strands of light should be. They aren’t exactly sticking to any kind of theme. The lights are multicolored, the ornaments in all shapes and shades. The only real issue is what should go on top of the tree.

Sam reaches for an angel without a thought; that’s what you put on top of a Christmas tree, right? But when he turns to put it in the cart, he sees Martha going to pick up a star.

“You sure that’s the best idea?” she asks, looking back at him.

“It’s traditional,” Sam says.

“My own personal issues with angel ornamentation aside, don’t you think it might be a little weird for Cas?”

Okay, he’s going to have to ask about that later, because that just sounds bizarre. Martha may have a point though. Sam can already almost hear Castiel asking why humans are so insistent about their ideas of angels in robes and pure white wings.

“But angels are so central to the Christmas story,” he protests, not entirely sure why he can’t let this go. But it seems important.

“Yeah, and you’ve met Gabriel,” Martha counters. “How can you possibly take anything he’s been involved in seriously?”

It does raise a lot of questions.

“We’ll get the star,” Sam concedes.

When they get home, they find a tree already set up in the living room. Sam notices the side facing the wall looks a little crushed, and the lamp that usually stands next to the sofa is suspiciously missing. Still, the tree is standing, and Castiel looks so proud. He doesn’t mention it.

Much like shopping for ornaments, decorating the tree goes swimmingly until it’s time to put the star on top. The tree is just barely too tall for Sam to reach up easily, and it would be too simple for them to own a step stool or something.

“Okay, so if I get on your shoulders, this should be doable,” Martha says, tapping her chin with her fingers as she considers the tree.

It takes some finagling. Eventually, they decide the best way to do this is for Sam to get on his knees so Martha can use the couch to clamber onto his shoulders. She wobbles dramatically when Sam stands, and for a moment it looks like they might topple over. Sam steadies himself, wrapping his hands around Martha’s thighs to keep her up.

“Okay, pass me the star, Cas,” Martha says.

Castiel looks around, confused. “I don’t have it.”

Sam’s pretty sure Martha is gearing up to say some choice things when Dean swans into the room.

“I had to fix it,” he says, holding out the star and looking unnecessarily smug.

Taped to the star is a picture of Castiel. Sam’s not even sure when anyone took a picture of Castiel.

“You gotta put an angel on top of the tree.”


	2. December 2nd- Snowfall

Here’s the thing. It does not snow in London. That’s just not how the weather works there. Martha’s not used to this kind of weather.

Curled up with a blanket as she types up her proposal for how UNIT could expand its capabilities to include a branch dedicated to dealing with the supernatural, she finds watching the snow fall soothing. The house is quiet. Sam, Dean, and Cas left in the morning for what looked like a simple salt and burn a state over.

Martha may have reminded them how many times a simple salt and burn ever turns out to actually be a simple salt and burn in an effort to get all of them out of her hair. The proposal has been a nearly constant source of stress, and just because they all promise not to bother her doesn’t mean they succeed.

Even if he’s not in the same room, Dean is loud enough to be a near constant distraction. Castiel is quiet, but his occasional failures with basic human technology are catastrophic and attention drawing. Just last week Martha interrupted an investigation into the strength of the blender. Fortunately, he hadn’t gotten to rocks. And while Sam’s interruptions are always enjoyable, she really needs to get this done, dammit!

She yawns and draws the blanket tighter around her. Just close it out, then you can go to bed. Her eyes drift back to the window, snowflakes swirling down. It’s hypnotic, really.

She’s woken when Sam tries to ease the laptop away from her.

“That was fast,” she mumbles, still sluggish with sleep.

Sam grins and places the laptop on the coffee table.

“It really was a simple hunt,” he says as he slides onto the couch next to her.

Martha, slightly hindered by the blanket, wriggles her way closer. Sam wraps his arms around her, and the couple shifts until Martha lies cradled against Sam’s chest, both of them watching as the snow continues to fall.

“I should finish,” Martha says.

Sam presses his lips to her hair. “Tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An excellent example of 'did the research and disregarded the research.' Because guess what the weather is not like in southeastern South Dakota?


	3. December 3rd- Snowmen and Snow Angels

“You know, they never look as good in real life,” Sam says, but he’s still grinning like a kid.

Martha nods, surveying their slightly mud and grass stained snowman. It leans dangerously to the left, and they could only find one suitable stick, so it only has one arm. When they’d decided to make a snowman, they’d dug through the fridge to find a carrot. Sam had found a stalk of celery. Pretty much the only proper piece they’d managed were a pair of black button eyes.

Still, it’s their snowman, so Sam dashes inside to grab a camera.

When he returns, Martha is no longer standing next to their snowman. Looking around, he catches sight of her gesturing wildly at him from behind the large oak tree off the side of the house. He’s about to ask, but she makes a shushing motion at him.

He joins her, and follows her gaze to the backyard. Dean is lying on his back in the snow, while Cas looks down at him, clearly not understanding whatever strange human tradition this is. After a moment, he must decide to humor Dean, because he lies down too.

Dean is speaking, but they’re just far enough away that Sam can make out his voice, but not many of the words.

“Like this,” Sam hears, and then things start to come together, because Dean starts waving his arms up and down, and oh god, he’s making a snow angel. He’s making snow angels with Cas, and this cannot be real life, because Cas is actually following Dean’s lead.

Pressed against his side, Martha is giggling.

Eventually, Dean gets to his feet. He offers his hand to Castiel, and when he pulls the angel up, they’re suddenly very close to each other. Clearing his throat, Dean steps away, and bends down to draw what must be a halo over the head of Cas’ imprint.


	4. December 4th- Year that Never Was Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your regularly scheduled fluff will return tomorrow.

Sam stays with her until the tip of South America. Their contact is adamant that only one of them can continue, and when Martha sees the state of the boat she’ll be taking to New Zealand, she understands. She’s worried enough adding her to the passenger list might sink it.

“You can’t be serious.” Sam apparently shares this concern.

“I’ve got to,” Martha says.

One of the sailors touches her shoulder. “Ma’am, we’ve got to leave now.”

She nods. “One moment.”

Martha pulls Sam down until their foreheads are resting against each other. “Be careful.”

Sam laughs. “I’m not the world’s most wanted fugitive. You be careful.”

He kisses her briefly, pressing something into her hands. Then Sam pulls back, like he doesn’t trust himself to let her go. When Martha looks down, she’s holding a small, paper-wrapped package.

“Don’t open it until Christmas,” he says, and if his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, well, Martha’s probably doesn’t either.

Martha’s alone on Christmas. Well, she’s pretty sure it’s Christmas, and it’s a pretty miserable Christmas at that. She’s huddled in a makeshift lean-to in a snowy Siberian forest. Cold as she is, she can’t risk a fire, and her stomach’s growling thanks to the meager rations she’s set to make her food last.

She’s digging through her pack to find the jerky she knows she has left when she finds Sam’s package.

Oh.

She pulls it out, murmuring “Merry Christmas, Martha.” She struggles for a moment unwrapping it. The gloves she wears make it hard to get a grip, and her hands are stiff with cold.

Still, she manages, and the paper gives way to reveal a simple wooden box with a bird carved into it. Opening it, she finds a folded piece of paper, which she removes and unfolds.

_Merry Christmas, Martha!_

_Well, I supposed it might not be Christmas. I have no way of knowing if you waited._

_I hope you like the box. It’s a nightingale on the top. I mean, it’s supposed to be a nightingale. This isn’t exactly a great skill of mine._

_I wish I could have told you this face to face, but I wasn’t sure how. I don’t know what’s going to happen if you succeed. I suspect you don’t know either. But if you make it through this, I’d want you to come find me._

_I hope you already knew that, but I want to be sure._

_I love you._

_Sam_


	5. December 5th- Hot Chocolate

“I did not miss term papers,” Sam mutters, staring at a mostly written essay that still needs a good page and a half for acceptable length.

He’s trying to convince himself that he is too old for the 14 point font periods trick when Martha knocks on the door. Looking up, he notices she’s hanging back in the doorway. Probably remembering the way she’d snapped at everyone when she was writing her UNIT proposal.

“What’s up,” Sam asks, eagerly pushing his chair back from the desk.

Martha laughs. “Don’t get too excited; I’m not here to take you away from paper writing. I brought you something.”

She places a steaming mug on his desk, and Sam picks it up immediately, relishing the feel of warm ceramic in his hands.

“Hot chocolate?”

“The best hot chocolate,” Martha says confidently.

Sam takes a sip, and holy shit, yeah it might just be the best hot chocolate ever. He can definitely taste vanilla and cinnamon in it.

“Oh my god,” he manages.

“There’s another mug of it for you when you finish your paper.”

That might just be enough motivation.


	6. December 6th- An Alien Encounter

At the first sound of that droning, almost scratching, noise, Martha shoots out of her chair. She’s out the back door before Sam or Dean can ask “What’s up”

The brother’s follow her cautiously, pausing to retrieve a pair of hidden shotguns. They may be mostly retired, but they’re still Winchesters. Retired doesn’t mean unprepared.

They charge outside and pause, because there is a large blue box sitting in their backyard. Martha’s grinning as a short man in tweed and a bowtie emerges. She greets him with a hug.

“Is that him?” Dean whispers, lowering his gun.

“I think so,” Sam answers.

The Doctor, for it has to be the Doctor, holds her at arm’s length, taking her in.

“Look at you, Martha Jones,” he says. “Savior of the world, and now you’ve gone positively domestic.”

Martha laughs. “It’s really not nearly as normal as it seems.”

The Doctor looks past Martha, and his face falls. “I don’t like guns.” 

Sam immediately puts his shotgun down; Dean is a little more reluctant, but he follows suite. The Doctor watches them warily. In a way, he reminds Sam of Castiel, eyes in a seemingly human face that have seen and know so much more than anyone would believe.

Sam desperately wants the Doctor to like him. This man is so important to Martha; the way she tells stories about her time in the TARDIS makes that much obvious.

The Doctor turns back to Martha. “I wanted to visit for Christmas, but I seem to have undershot it.”

“You’re welcome to stay as long as you like,” Sam blurts out.

The Doctor grins at him, but Sam thinks he still sees some suspicion in his eyes.

“I’d like that very much, Sam Winchester.”


	7. December 7th- Angels

Sam’s not entirely sure how to start this conversation, so he stares into his cup of tea. On the other side of the table, Martha and the Doctor are discussing Martha’s UNIT proposal.

“I don’t like it,” he says firmly.

“I didn’t think you would,” Martha replies. “But frankly, you’re too far removed from this. And don’t pretend to be anything but a technical pacifist.”

The Doctor shakes his head before glancing at Sam. “I suppose you’re going to tell me there are no other options?”

Sam places his mug on the table and takes a moment to consider his answer. “I’m not saying every monster out there needs to die. We’ve meet a coven of vampires who don’t drink human blood. I’m sure there are shifters out there who aren’t using their talents for murder and various crimes. But sometimes, like with werewolves, there is no way to control it. Most vamps don’t care about killing humans. And if we don’t take them out, innocent people die.”

The Doctor considers him for a moment. “Well, Sam, I can’t pretend I like it, but it was a good answer. Martha, you could do worse.”

Sam breathes a sigh of relief, while Martha laughs. They finish their tea in amiable conversation, or almost do. The Doctor leaps to his feet when Castiel enters.

“Oh, this is the angel!” he exclaims, dashing over to Cas. “But that’s just fascinating. How do you condense down to fit into the vessel?”

Castiel inclines his head, looking unfazed, but Cas is pretty much always unfazed. “Time Lord. And it’s a relative space; the plane in which the human soul and angelic grace exist is separate from the plane of physical existence.”

“Naturally, naturally.” The Doctor grins. “So it’s bigger on the inside?”

Martha groans, and Sam suspects this a recurring joke.

“You could say that,” Castiel answers. “As I understand it, your TARDIS runs on the same energy which powers an angel’s grace.”

“Really?” The Doctor’s grin is almost maniacal now. “I can’t say I’ve ever heard that before, but given the resentment between our races, I can’t say I’m surprised.”

“Wait, what?” Sam asks. It’s pretty clear Cas and the Doctor aren’t going to start having it out in the kitchen, but why hasn’t anyone mentioned that before?

The Doctor waves his hand dismissively. “It’s an old and ridiculous conflict. The angels never approved of Gallifrey’s potential to play God, and the Time Lords felt the angels look down on them. They’re actually very similar species, to be quite honest.”

The Doctor turns back to Castiel. “Would you like to meet her?”

“I’d like that very much.”

The pair leaves, saying something about huon energy and it’s similarity to the human soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clearly, I couldn't decide if I wanted comical or serious, which is a major problem when you're doing a drabble a day.


	8. December 8th- Tinsel

After wrapping a decent amount of it around the bannister and placing some of it on the mantel piece, they still have left over tinsel.

“How did we end up with this much?” Sam asks, shaking a handful of metallic blue strands at Martha.

“I have no idea. Maybe we can put some on the TARDIS?” she suggests.

They’re interrupted by the commotion of Cas and Dean returning home.

“We’re not keeping it,” Dean is saying, when Martha and Sam enter the kitchen.

What they are not keeping is a sandy colored tabby kitten peering out from the pocket of Castiel’s overcoat. Sam thinks it’s probably not the best place for a small cat, but the animal seems content enough, not even protesting as Cas moves around the kitchen, pulling out bowls.

“I wasn’t asking,” Cas says, filling one bowl with water and the other with cat food he must have gotten from the shelter. He fishes the kitten out of his pocket and places it on the counter next to the bowls. “He has nowhere else to go.”

“You work at an animal shelter,” Dean says slowly, as if Cas has forgotten. “Why can’t he stay there?”

“It’s always over-crowded this time of year,” Castiel answers promptly, stroking the kitten’s head.

Deciding someone should probably intervene, Sam steps in. “Dean, we are not getting rid of a kitten in this weather. Cas, we can’t take in every animal they don’t have space for.”

“I know that,” Cas says defensively, but he looks thrilled as he picks the kitten back up.

It’s only when she returns with an armful of tinsel that Sam notices Martha had left. “I’ve got an idea.”

She pulls a pair of scissors out of a drawer and begins to cut the tinsel into small pieces. Tossing one onto the floor, she tells Cas to put the cat down.

It really shouldn’t be so consuming, watching a kitten scrabble over the floor after a scrap of tinsel. But it’s hopelessly adorable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because it's not a proper Pawfoot advent calender until I've managed to give someone a kitten.


	9. December 9th- Cookies

“I don’t remember you eating such weird things when I travelled with you,” Martha says as she watches the Doctor frost a snowman shaped cookie with hummus.

“New mouth,” he says, taking a bite and promptly spitting it out in the sink. “This one likes some weird stuff.”

Martha laughs and pushes a bowl of white frosting towards him. “Well, the rest of us like our cookies sweet, so try and contain yourself.”

The Doctor pouts ridiculously, but he does begin using more traditional toppings. They working in a companionable silence for a while, humming along to the Christmas music on the radio.

“You’re happy, right?” The Doctor asks suddenly.

The question is so unexpected that Martha can’t answer immediately. But she thinks about the Sam she meet during her trek around the world. She remembers quiet moments in between catastrophes of the apocalypse where they fell in love. The way Dean slowly came to trust her as she struggled through with them. How Castiel has always just accepted her as a fellow solider.

The way they’re all trying to adjust to life after the war together, and doing not half bad.

“Yeah,” she says. “I’m happy.”


	10. December 10th- Christmas Crackers

Martha Jones is on a mission. A very serious, very important mission, that is in no way motivated to escape the house where the Doctor is trying to sit down and talk to Dean and Cas about their feelings. And instead of helping her talk him down, Sam had muttered something about the library and vanished. So Martha got the hell out too.

Should be interesting returning home. Vaguely, she wonders in the Doctor’s newfound matching making “abilities” are because of the Ponds, but she knows the look in his eyes well enough not to bring them up.

So Martha Jones is going to buy some Christmas crackers, because they are an important and necessary part of any Christmas celebration.

Except she’s wandering through the Christmas aisles and she hasn’t seen one cracker.

A store attendant approaches her. “Can I help you?”

“I’m looking for a box of crackers,” Martha says.

The store attendant, a boy who can’t be out of high school yet, looks confused. “The grocery aisles are on the other side of the store, ma’am.”

And now Martha is confused. “I know that. I’m not looking for soup crackers, I’m looking for Christmas crackers.”

“Cracker isn’t some British word for cookie, is it?” he asks.

Martha could scream. “You know, Christmas crackers? You hold one end, I hold the other, we pull on it, BANG!”

And now he’s looking at her like she’s mad.

“I don’t think we have those,” he says slowly.

Martha leaves, put out, but enough time hasn’t passed for everything to blow over at home, so she goes to another store. And when they don’t have crackers, she goes to another. And by that point, it’s a quest, she is going to find some Christmas crackers if it kills her.

So when she returns home that evening with no crackers, she’s feeling pretty dejected. Sam arrives at pretty much the same time she does, so at least she has someone to ask about this.

“Are Christmas crackers not something people do in America?”

It’s weird how much like the shop boy he looks. “This isn’t some British slang, is it?”

She sighs. “Never mind.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I learned in November that Christmas crackers are not a super common thing in America, which I found strange, because my family usually has them.


	11. December 11th- Slipped on the Ice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is pretty much not Sartha, and I'm sorry about that, but when you're doing a drabble a day, there's not really time to fix it.

Dean doesn’t say anything the entire drive home. Although, Sam supposes it’s pretty embarrassing to slip on a patch of ice outside the garage, and have your coworkers phone your younger brother because you probably have a concussion.

He’s not pleased about Sam driving the Impala, but he’d also thrown a fit about leaving it. Concussed Dean is basically a toddler.

When they get home, they find Martha and the Doctor stringing Christmas lights around the TARDIS.

“What happened?” Martha asks, because it’s three hours before Dean is normally home.

“Nothing,” Dean says as Sam answers, “He fell on some ice and probably has a concussion.”

Martha leads them inside and sits Dean on the couch. “Let me check you out.”

Martha concludes that Dean might have a concussion, but it’s probably pretty minor. “But someone should probably still wake him up every two hours or so if he falls asleep.”

Dean complains all day, but it doesn’t stop them from assigning Castiel the task of waking him. This probably isn’t the most diplomatic choice, because Dean certainly hasn’t forgiven them for abandoning him and Cas to the Doctor’s romantic schemes. But Castiel doesn’t sleep, so it makes the most sense.

It must be around one, and Sam’s returning from the bathroom when he hears Castiel wake Dean up.

“Seriously, I’m fine, you can stop now,” Dean says.

“Martha said every two hours,” Castiel says sternly, and Sam just knows he’s got the ‘why must you be so difficult, Dean’ face on.

“Yeah, but you could just, I don’t know, use some kind of angel mojo to make sure I’m fine.”

“I feel better checking this way. I like talking to you.”

Sam creeps back to bed, but he can’t help thinking (though he’ll never admit it, dear god he is not dealing with that) maybe the Doctor has a point.


	12. December 12th- Knit

“It’s… um…” Sam stares at the monster of a scarf he’s unwrapped. It looks like it’s been made with every left over scrap of yarn the Doctor could find. All of them. 

“Used to wear one just like it,” the Doctor says with a grin.

Dean and Martha are eying their lumpy packages a little nervously now, but Castiel unwraps a perfectly normal knit cap. Now convinced their gifts might not be as ridiculous as Sam’s scarf, Martha and Dean open their presents.

Sam decides he won’t point out that Dean’s hat matches Castiel’s, but he doesn’t think it’s a little unfair that Martha’s scarf is much more manageable.

“And I made something for the cat too!” The Doctor proudly holds up a kitten sized sweater vest.

“I wasn’t aware cats needed sweater vests,” Castiel says, looking around like this maybe makes sense to the rest of them.

“Well they don’t need them, exactly. But wouldn’t it look sweet?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because a friend wanted the cat in a sweater vest, and I'm too busy with finals to pass up something that wrote itself. Updates may be spotty/of questionable quality for the next few days, and I apologize.


	13. December 13th-Snowball Fight

They probably should have expected Castiel to be ruthlessly good at snowball fights, but it’s hard to reconcile his frightening accuracy with his ‘Why do humans do these strange things?’ face when they’d explained the concept to him.

They’d instituted a no teleporting rule very quickly.

Martha and the Doctor crouch behind a hastily constructed snow bank. They watch as Sam tries to get behind Castiel without the angel noticing. It looks like he’s going to make it, but then he’s beaned in the back of the head by a snowball.

“What the hell, man?” he yells as Dean laughs. “I had him”

“Every man for himself, Sammy.”

Dean’s probably regretting those words as Castiel lobs some snowballs at him, but it does give Sam and opening. Castiel splutters as he tries to shake the snow off his coat.

Soon, the snow if flying fast and furious.

“Cup of tea?” Martha asks the Doctor.

“Sounds good.”

The pair crawl to the backdoor, mercifully unnoticed, until they’re opening the door. The Doctor takes a few hits in the back.

Turning around with a quickly made snowball in hand, he yells, “I am the Oncoming Storm, and I will not—“

He’s pelted with a barrage of snow before he can finish, Martha laughing from the kitchen window.

“That’s it,” he mutters, dashing into the fray, tea forgotten


	14. December 14th- Secret Santa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was a request on tumblr for a HS!AU installment, and it kind of exploded. I'm only a little sorry.

“It has to be perfect,” Sam says, pacing back and forth across his bedroom. “And then she’ll open it, and realize who ever gave it to her is perfect for her, and then I’ll reveal myself and we’ll be together. Oh god, why did I put this off? I need something for tomorrow.”

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard, and I live with Gabriel,” Castiel says. “Now come on, position papers are also due tomorrow, and I really think we could have more statistics about the effectiveness of local clinics and access to birth control.”

“No one takes these things seriously. I know for a fact Dean’s entire paper for UNESCO is about replacing every world language with Newspeak,” Sam gripes, but he digs through a stack of papers and hands Castiel a study he’d found last week. “And you know what’s going to happen. All the developed nations are going to advocate increased medical access and access to birth control, and every Latin American country with a strong Roman Catholic presence is going to refuse to ratify it.”

“Help me finish this paper, and we can go find Martha the perfect secret santa gift,” Castiel replies. “And it’s a solid Orwell reference. Did he at least write the paper in Newspeak?”

Twenty minutes later, the friends are wandering through Target, looking for gifts. Well, Sam is looking for a gift. Castiel seems completely uninterested.

“Who did you get, anyway?” Sam asks, to stop himself from pulling his hair out.

Cas smirks. “I got Dean, because the universe is fond of me. I made an apple pie this afternoon.”

Sam groans. “It should be against the rules to get your boyfriend.”

It’d be better if Castiel was still in his awful, huge crush on Sam’s older brother phase, because then at least they’d be in the same boat. And Sam would be able to make fun of him. Instead, Sam has to struggle through pulling his crush’s name for the Model UN’s secret santa alone.

Sam’s had a crush on Martha Jones since the first day of school, when the English exchange student had assured their AP US History teacher that she wouldn’t hand in any essays judging the colonials for leaving. Although she did remind everyone that the Boston Massacre was a great piece of propaganda.

“Jewelry is too romantic, right?”

Cas tilts his head. “I thought you were going for romantic.”

“But I don’t want to come on too strong.”

Cas grabs him and shakes him. “You need to listen to me because I actually know something about this. You cannot be subtle. Subtle is bad. You need to be clear and explicit, and ideally you should just tell her you want to take her out, and hopefully touch her face with your face.”

Sam nods, eyes a little wide.

“Now buy this giant Toblerone, because pretty much everyone wants a giant Toblerone.”

By the time they get to the club meeting the next day, Sam’s feeling a little panicky. He can’t do it. He can’t ask her out; she’s only thinks of him as a friend. It’ll never work.

Anna Milton, the club president, collects everyone’s presents and papers. She looks decidedly unamused by Dean’s, but it’s not like there’s time to make him rewrite it.

As everyone else is unwrapping their gifts, Sam is quietly freaking out. He can’t even look over at Martha. He can’t move; he just sits there.

“Sam?” He looks up, and oh my god, it’s Martha. She’s smiling a little shyly. “I’d really like that.”

“Huh?” Sam says, because he is a well-educated and articulate young man.

“Er, the note?” She says, holding out a piece of paper. “With your gift. I’d like to go out with you this Saturday. If you hadn’t asked soon, I was going to have to do it myself.”

Sam is still stuck on the note he definitely did not put in with his gift. He takes it, and, written in Dean’s handwriting, it says “Martha, could I take you out to dinner this Saturday? Sam”

He decides to ignore that Cas told Dean, because you have to understand a conflict of interests when your best friend is dating your brother.

“Great! I’ll pick you up at 6?”


	15. December 15th- Mistletoe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, I had a whole slew of computer issues that I had to take care of last week, so I'm running a few days behind. Hopefully, I'll be caught up in a day or two.

“Are you coming or are you just going to stand there?” Martha asks, waiting on Sam who is standing in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen.

“I can’t move,” he says.

“Let me see,” the Doctor says, pulling out his sonic screwdriver and approaching.

When his feet come down in the doorway, he stops. Pulls his legs, but his feet don’t budge.

“I seem to be stuck too.” He glances around, and catches sight of an object tacked above them. “Ah, there we are.”

And with no other explanation, he leans forward, grabs Sam’s face and kisses him. They both stumble out of the doorway, the Doctor looking pleased, Sam looking very, very confused.

“Mistletoe,” Martha says with a laugh. “But who would put enchanted mistletoe in our house?”

The Doctor shrugs. “No idea, but it seems like a harmless enough prank.”

“What the hell is this?”

They turn to find Dean and Castiel trapped under the mistletoe. The Doctor looks like Christmas has come early, and Sam is trying so hard not to laugh he’s choking.

“Are you unfamiliar with mistletoe?” someone asks from the corner of the kitchen.

The voice is familiar, but decidedly unexpected, seeing as it belongs to a dead man. Then again, it’s not like resurrections are uncommon among their group. And Gabriel did sort of die for them.

“Loki,” the Doctor says warily.

“Wearing a new face, eh Doc?” he asks with a grin. “And I’m going by Gabriel again.”

“What the hell is this?” Dean snarls.

Gabriel sighs and shakes his head. “Mistletoe, honestly, are you always this slow? Castiel, I know you have a history, but you can do a lot better, bro.”

“So if we complete the tradition, we’ll be able to leave?” Castiel asks, completely reasonable in the face of Dean’s increasing agitation.

“Them’s the rules,” Gabriel says, hopping to sit on the counter.

Still grumbling about angels and maturity, Dean leans forward and kisses Castiel on the cheek. Their feet do not budge.

“You can do better than that,” the Doctor complains.

“You are not supposed to take his side!” Dean snaps.

The Doctor shrugs. “Lo—Gabriel’s an old friend.”

Sam really is choking now.

“Fine.”

Dean grabs the lapels of Castiel’s coat, pulls him forward, and kisses him. There’s nothing half-assed about this one. In fact, Sam feels pretty uncomfortable being in the same room as this kiss. This is not an appropriate surrounded by a group of people who include your younger brother kiss.

Dean and Cas stumble out of the doorway and finally break apart. Gabriel’s clapping.

“Finally,” Martha mutters. “Now can we go get dinner?”


	16. December 16th- Memories

Martha’s lying in bed, reading a book. Well, she’s lying in bed with a book while she watches Sam get ready for bed. What can she say, the man is extremely distracting without a shirt on.

Sam pauses in his routine, picking something up off the dresser. “Where’s this box from?”

It’s the box he carved for her during the year that never was. Martha considers her next words carefully, because how does she explain this? Telling this story means admitting that she was in love with Sam essentially before he ever met her.

In the end, she decides the simplest solution is to tell the truth.

“You made it for me,” she says.

“I think I’d remember that.”

Martha shakes her head. “When I was traveling with the Doctor, something happened. An entire year that only six people remember happened, because, well, technically it didn’t.”

Sam sits down next to her. “It was bad, wasn’t it?”

Martha nods. “But I got to meet you, which I suppose counts for something.”


	17. December 17th- Nativity Scene

“Get down from there,” Sam groans. “We can’t take you anywhere.”

“Excuse me,” Gabriel says, sounding highly affronted, “I am an archangel. I am a wise, powerful, and all-knowing being. And if I want to sit on top of this nativity and herald the birth of the Christ child, that’s what I’m going to do.”


	18. December 18th- Wrapping Gifts

Castiel doesn’t even bother. Everything is angel mojo-ed up, simply wrapped with a bow on top.

Martha puts in an effort, but she can’t really be that bothered. Her gifts look alright, but sometimes there’s a tear in the paper where the scissors snagged, or the back of the paper is visible.

Sam works meticulously. He’s got rulers and curls his ribbons with scissors. Double sided tape is involved.

Dean covers everything in newspaper.


	19. December 19th- Christmas Carols

“You never sing,” Martha says one evening.

The house is quieter than it’s usually been in the past few days. The Doctor is in the TARDIS, tinkering with something. Dean and Castiel are on an honest to god date. Sam thinks he deserves a best younger brother in the history of younger brothers award for not putting on some ridiculous spectacle where he rambled about how he was worried Dean would never find a nice young man and take pictures and shit.

Cas doesn’t deserve that. Dean totally does, but it’d be criminal to ruin it for Cas.

Anyway, the only thing in the background is the Christmas music Martha’s been playing for weeks. 

Sam shrugs, but he looks away in embarrassment as he says, “I don’t know any of them. We never did Christmas. Not really. Anyway, your voice is so nice.”

Martha scoots closer to him. “We’re going to have to do something about that.”

She grabs her laptop and starts pulling up lyrics to different songs.

“Okay the next song up is ‘Deck the Halls;’ are you ready?”


	20. December 20th- Candy Cane

She has to be doing it on purpose. No one is that effortlessly sexual; it’s just not possible. Sam swallows as Martha’s tongue wraps around the crook of the candy cane.

She pauses, and smirks. “Am I distracting you?”

Damn it, she is doing it on purpose.


	21. December 21st- Mayan Apocalypse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that the timeline doesn't sync up, given where I've AU-ed from, but whatever. And yay! I'm finally caught up.

They stay up until midnight on the 20th, sitting around with guns, iron, hex bags, and salt. The Doctor thinks they’re overarmed. Castiel insists there is no reason anything should happen.

Dean reminds him that with their luck, the world very well could end at midnight. It’s not like it hasn’t tried to before.

Midnight passes. Martha wonders how long they should wait until they can safely say nothing is going to happen.

At one, Dean passes around some beers and they all congratulate each other.


	22. December 22nd- Home for the Holidays

“I know, Mum, but it’s a big, expensive trip,” Martha says, exasperated. “And we’d really like to celebrate Christmas in our new home. Yes, I know you want to meet him. I know Tish and Leo are coming.”

There’s a lull, and Martha’s mother must be speaking.

“I know. I love you too, Mum.”

“She still at it?” Sam asks.

Martha sighs. “I’m this close to promising we’ll come next year.”

“We could, if you wanted to.”

Her phone rings again. “No Mum, I am not coming home for Christmas. Oh…. I was expecting someone else, ma’am.”

“Yes. Yes, he is. Oh, that does sound troubling. Yes, of course we can.”

She hangs up, and judging by her expression, Sam knows nothing good just happened.

“That was UNIT. Something’s come up, and well, they need the Doctor and me to come in…”

Sam nods. “Of course you do. Looks like your mom might get her wish.”


	23. December 23rd- Long Distance Call

“Missing me already?” Sam says as he answers the phone.

Martha and the Doctor have been in London for maybe three hours, and they’ve barely been gone longer than that. Perks of TARDIS travel.

“Terribly,” Martha answers, but she doesn’t quite hit the joking tone. It’s obvious she’s stressed.

“What’s wrong?”

“How soon can you, Dean, and Cas be ready to leave?” she asks. “You’ll want to bring some weaponry, though the Doctor may not approve.”

“Why do you need us? It’s not like we have much alien expertise.”

“It’s not alien,” she explains. “It’s definitely something supernatural, although I’m not sure what.”

“I’ll start packing now.”


End file.
